


Save Yourself (I'm tired of doing it for you)

by Howland



Category: Lost Boys (1987), Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Community: smallfandomfest, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, M/M, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howland/pseuds/Howland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a while, bagged blood isn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Yourself (I'm tired of doing it for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SmallFandomFest, prompt 'Curbing the Killer Instinct.'
> 
> I remembered reading a story formatted like this for a creative writing class a couple semesters ago, but I never tried writing something like this myself until now. I hope it's not too jarring. Also, this is un-beta'd and was written amidst finals stress so I'm guessing there are plenty of errors I haven't noticed. Feel free to point them out if you wish.

5\. 

It starts as just a hiss in the darkness. Like air from a tire or a gas leak. Quiet and nerve rattling and so dangerous.

It’s not like a snake hiss, not quite a cat either. Bigger, smarter, more powerful.

Hands grasping like claws catch the light for a moment as they lunge out of the shadows, then the light is gone. The Candle knocked over, snuffed out.

A bead of sweat moves down Michael’s neck, cold and shaking. He’s barely moving, eyes piercing the shadows, drilling into that spot of black where he just saw the hand. His ears are straining, but the rattle of the wind and rain is too much. He’s weak now.

Still he thinks he can scent the stink of his own fear. He knows he reeks of it. It rises above the damp smells of stone and dust and seawater.

Its cold and he doesn’t even feel it, his body tuned to another sensation, another touch that’s not yet applied.

There’s that sound again, and it’s never clear where it comes from, shushing out of the dark on all sides, sidling in close before slinking away. It’s not a real sound, almost like a memory or a hallucination.

Michael doesn’t move, doesn’t shiver, doesn’t swallow. The softest touch of the gauzy bed curtains might have been enough to break him. If the wind were just a bit stronger.

Something is standing in the spare gray blue light just leaking down the stairs, but its gone as soon as Michael’s eyes search for it. Melting back and darting away and it’s killing Michael, all this waiting.

Another little hiss. Just a sound, he wishes, another fictitious nightmare noise coming out of the darkness.

4.

“You know I won’t hurt you anymore, just like you won’t hurt me. We’re well beyond that.” David murmurs when Michael’s silence stretches on too long.

Michael takes a long pull from the cigarette in his hands, sucking in the smoke and clinging to it.

“You know that Michael.”

He shifts slightly so his hip isn’t being stabbed so hard by the chrome accent on his bike. He’s infinitely cautious in how he leans against her, knowing he could send her over with just a little carelessness. It might not be the end of the world, but he could also damage something important.

He lets the smoke go with a sigh.

“We’ve been through this.”

Michael doesn’t look at him.

He drags in another dose then lets his hand pull the cigarette away. He stares at the orange yellow glow of the tip, the only thing offering light out here so far from the city other than the scant stars.

Everything smells like pine trees and an encroaching storm. The clouds had been gathering for awhile. He scuffs his shoe in the dirt just to smell the dust, squinting to watch how it puffs and swirls in the dark

A hand grabs his chin and smoke curls past his lips as they part slightly in surprise.

He stares at David’s eyes, watching the light of his cigarette reflect off of them, a tiny pair of pin prick lights. He knows that David sees him perfectly.

“You’re mine, Michael, I know you know what that means.”

‘On so many levels’ Michael thinks, only nodding in reply.

David is silent and Michael takes another pull, holds his breath, doesn’t break their locked gaze.

The wind picks up after some time. Michael smokes his cigarette down to the filter and he tosses it into the dust, rubbing it out with his toe. The stars shift steadily in the sky even as they’re shuttered behind the closing clouds.

Eventually David mounts his bike and Michael follows suit. They’re not far from the cave, but they take the long way back. The skies are just opening up half an hour later when they reach the entrance and hastily stash their bikes under an overhang. It’s late but truthfully Michael doesn’t feel tired these days.

He follows David down the steps and into the darkness.

6.

He wants to scream and flip out when fingernails finally trace over his shoulder, but he’s taught himself not to flinch. He doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself again.

3.

“Is it a better idea to just go out for it? Seek out new enemies like some neo-surf nazi assholes just to thrash them? It’s this or it’s them, kid. It’s this or it’s Sam, or Lucy, or those little hunter boys who got lucky and got cocky and don’t know shit about how to bring a real hunter down.”

“Stop it.” Michael hisses, suddenly furious and spooked and already knowing full well he’ll capitulate in the end.

David pulls out a cigarette and lights it. He takes a couple drags for himself, then passes it off to Michael. He knows Michael won’t buy the things for himself just a well as he knows he’s gotten the boy addicted.

“ _I_  like to kill people, Michael.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, sticking the cigarette between his lips and staring stubbornly to the left, not meeting David’s gaze.

“A lot of people deserve it. It’s a service really.”

Michael tells himself he will be strong, he will not look away from the night blackened patch of pine trees he’s fixated on. He will not turn his head and try to reason with David because he knows that David will not listen.

“I’m willing to compromise Michael. I’m willing to put of up with a lot for your sake, as you well know, but I cannot make this go away and it’s useless to try and crush it. It’s your choice then as to how it comes out. Your choice.”

Michael taps the ash off his cigarette onto the ground and leans against his bike.

“You’re always pissing and moaning about choices. So make one.”

Michael tells himself he won’t. Tells himself those options aren’t good enough. Tells himself he’ll go find a nice stick and sharpen it and strike this monster down for real this time, straight through the heart.

He’s lying and he knows it, but it feels good in a sickening sort of way to spend a couple seconds in denial.

7.

Michael thinks its stupid to be stalked like this when he’s sitting perfectly still, completely accessible and naked and easy. If he weren’t so fucking tense he’d scoff and roll his eyes and put on that sarcastic face he used to be so good at.

He’s sweating for real now, despite the cold and the damp which is starting to fold its way down the stairs. Those fingernails brush again, become a hand which flattens itself on his spine and it shoves so hard he’s sent sprawling, struggling to get his hands and knees under him but getting tangled up in the sheets that are never made, even when they’re clean.

Not sheets so much as a nest, the center of a spider’s web. Michael closes his eyes against the dark and tries not to think about spiders.

That hand again, nails sharp as they sink into the flesh of his bicep and yank him over until he’s lying on his back. He spreads his legs and tries not to think about the times when he’s enjoyed this.

He tries to not think about a lot of things, but all that leaves is this empty space at the front of his brain which gets soaked with  _David_. Not even memories or images but just this pure essence of the monster/man which Michael knows is some sort of mind game but it overwhelms him until he can’t pick it apart, can’t think straight.

The fear never goes away, but this is when he starts to like it.

2.

The ride through the woods is fast and Michael tries to forget his aches and enjoy it. He remembers when he first rode this path, still high as a kite on vampire blood and singing praises to a new kind of brotherhood. It’s not always as easy now, but it’s still a thrill. He doesn’t miss the way it was. He refuses to.

David’s words are still rattling around in his brain though and he can’t shake his surety that he’s not going to like what he has in mind.

God, he could go for a cigarette. He refuses to buy the things though, if only because he always knows David will always have a spare for him in his pack. It’s little things like that which spook him the most. The little dependencies which could be easily shaken but made life so much easier the way they were.

There’s a sound in the distance which could be thunder or a far off plane. Michael thinks about being able to taste ozone in the air.

They reach a clearing eventually, the woods breaking and opening up to a bluff. The sea is rolling and unhappy, tossing salt and remnants of dead fish smell into the air. As he dismounts Michael thinks about walking over to the edge, thinks about diving off just to try and fly. It’s a ludicrous sentiment, and comes and goes in a flash, but Michael shivers all the same.

When David starts to talk Michael wishes he wouldn’t.

“Getting hungry again, Michael.”

Michael shifts and folds his arms over his chest. “I stocked the cave up with shit from the blood bank just a couple nights ago.”

David probably scowls but it’s so dark Michael doesn't try to see it. “Shit is right kid. Three weeks of shit, to be precise, and now comes the time for hunger, for something  _more_.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t you trust me? I thought we were past the Max incident.”

His shoulders creep up towards his ears as Michael glares at the vampire.

“This isn’t about the Max incident. This is about not acting like an animal. It’s a matter of principle, David-”

“Fuck that. I know better than anybody about the bullshit of  _principle_  and I can tell you that principles are just going to get you killed in the end. Instinct is what keeps you going. That drive to fight and survive and  _kill_. Not some  _principles_  someone else has arbitrarily told you to adhere to.”

“They’re not arbitrary. They’re what keep a human  _humane_ , what separate the monsters from the men.”

David sneers and perches on the edge of the seat of his bike. His arms cross loosely in front of him, the look in his eye making it clear that he believes he’ll win this in the end. Michael hates how that look forces tendrils of doubt into his synapses and ruins his argument. He hates how it makes him want to let David win.

“I’m just fine with being a monster Michael. That’s how it should be. There’s no going back once you make that shift from man to beast. There’s no reason you should want to.”

Michael scowls. “I’m not doing this. I given in to you so many times and I’m not. Fucking. Doing this.”

Forest smells suddenly override the salt as the wind changes directions.

David smiles. “I’ll give you a choice then.”

8.

David is fierce when he falls upon him, violent like a predator, biting at Michael’s flesh until he draws little spots of blood up all over his skin. Michael tries not to smell the blood, reasons that it’s his  _own_  that it means  _nothing_.

Michael tries to refuse.

Then that hiss comes again, louder until its a snarl and David hisses back.

“Pathetic.” The vampire taunts. Michael hates him for it.

Michael opens his eyes, and counts every little ridge on David’s monstrous face. He hates him for that too.

He enjoys it as he lets his own face go, lets his nails become claws and starts to slash at the man above him.

His legs are still open and David, who is equally naked as Michael and far more erect, grinds himself down, almost too hard to feel good. The sweat on both of them is cold, it’s always cold, but it makes it slick and Michael howls, arching his neck and destroying the sound by snapping his jaws shut, trying to latch onto that sweet pale skin of David’s neck, of his shoulder,  _anywhere._

Michael wants to rend David limb from limb. He wants to tear him apart, shred him into a thousand, tiny pieces. He wants to rip into his stomach and suck on his ribs, consume him from the inside out.

He wants David to feel it. He wants David to scream.

He wants to kill David as much as David wants to fuck him and he bucks up, fighting the hands which are pressing his shoulders into the mattress, trying to bite into an artery, a vein, any vein. He wants to destroy him.

The rain turns from a downpour to an onslaught, curtains of it striking the ground. Water begins to run down the stairs, spreading and seeping into the cracks in the cave floor long before it reaches the bed.

Everything smells like water and dirt and overwhelmingly of blood as Michael’s half starved body can only sluggishly heal the gashes and bite marks David has left on him.

David is smiling and it’s a terrifying, triumphant expression. Michael doesn’t notice, his whole attention focused on that spot on David’s neck where he knows the skin is thin and the blood doesn’t flow so much as it rests, just waiting for Michael’s bite.

David’s hiss becomes a throaty rumble. A gravelly sound which grinds out of him and hits Michael deep in his gut, turns his shrieks to whines, his attempts to kill into a wordless, full body begging. He writhes under David, his eyes black and yellow and blown wide in the fever of his hunger.

He’s all need and David’s only desire is to oblige him.

When David bends down and leans his head to the side he growls a little warning so Michael knows not to tear into him, but Michael is so gone barely hears it. He bites down on David's neck with enough force that he hears his wind pipe crunch, feels the flesh under both his fangs and his lower jaw give way.

He doesn’t care.

The blood is shockingly warm and Michael doesn’t care that that means that it’s fresh. He doesn’t bother wondering where it comes from. He doesn’t give himself a moment to mourn the boys and girls who’ve died to facilitate his feed. The stupid beach bound punks who fell prey to his master, the groupies and junkies and whores whom he’s tasting through David; none of them matter.

As the blood flows a pain in Michael’s shoulder becomes apparent. He notices that David’s dug his claws in deep, deep enough to touch bone and he loosens his hold on David’s throat. Rumbling happily around his mouthful as he feels the esophagus immediately begin to repair itself. The flesh begins to fill back into its normal shape and it pushes against Michael’s lips, becoming firm against his deep sucks from David’s neck.

The blood pours down his throat, sinking into his gut where it starts to suffuse every part of him. He starts to feel strong again. He feels unstoppable.

Eventually he’s calmed down so he’s just nursing, sipping from the wound only enough to keep it from closing. He moves slowly with David as the older vampire thrusts against him, moving his own arousal against Michael’s newly straining erection. Too soon David grabs onto Michael’s jaw and squeezes, forcing the younger to retract his fangs and let go.

Michael stares at the swiftly closing punctures on David’s neck and breathes deep, scenting the air and noticing how the smell of his blood has faded to just the remnant left staining the sheets.

David’s eyes are hunter bright as he stares down at Michael, his hands still pressing Michael’s shoulders to the bed.

He smiles before he whispers “Weakling.”

Michael’s nostrils flare, his eyes go wide and he howls, his ire rising as he wrenches himself out from under David’s weight and tumbles them until their positions are reversed.

“Fuck you.” He growls low and furious and David looks so unafraid, so sure and Michael can’t stand it.

“Infant.” David goads and Michael hisses, the sound filling up the dark.

1.

Michael sighs heavily, pulling on his coat as he steps out of the back door of the hospital. He likes his job, really. He’s had it for a few years now, getting it just after the Max incident and managing to hold onto it even through all the madness of David’s return and their reconciliation.

The nice things about it are that no one asks questions on the night shift, and cleaning the morgue pays well in both cash and opportunities to surreptitiously raid the blood bank. He’s hardly squeamish, and dealing with body parts and blood splatter is infinitely more exciting than collecting garbage, but even vampires get worn down after awhile.

He’s not tired. He doesn’t get tired anymore. But his body aches from too much work and he’s absolutely  _starving_. He’s fantasizing about the type O he has stashed in the cave when he hears David’s bike rumble into the parking lot and he picks his head up, smiling.

He zips up his jacket and walks over to where his enemy come sire come lover idles next to his own parked bike.

“Nice night at work?” David taunts, no real bite to his words.

Michael rolls his eyes. “Just because you have no soul and don’t mind stealing to get what you want doesn’t mean we’re all so corrupt.”

With a shrug David leans forward, resting his forearms on his handle bars. “One day you’re going to go into work and you’re going to get some awfully uncomfortable questions about why your driver’s license says you’re eighty-five and you’re face still says you’re eighteen.”

With a shrug Michael mounted his own bike. “When that day comes I’ll switch jobs.”

David sighs behind him and Michael casts a glance over his shoulder, waiting for the inevitable. It’s not a topic he wants to broach again, especially not when he’s feeling this worn down.

“You’re not human anymore, Michael. You have to stop acting like on eventually.”

Michael stays stubbornly silent as he sticks his key in the ignition and kicks his bike into life. “Whatever. Are we just heading back to the hotel?”

For a moment David says nothing and Michael glances back again, watching as the vampire appears to consider his options.

Then David smiles. “Nah. I feel like riding through some rougher terrain tonight.”

Michael frowns but nods. For a moment he thinks longingly of the meal waiting for him in the cave, but he lets the moment pass. Even if he put up a fight, he knows he’d just end up going with what David wanted anyways.

He always does.

 


End file.
